Sound The Bugle
by RayaneKeehlJeevas
Summary: Gilbert, the former personafaction of Prussia now turned East Germany, has been sent to live with Russia as punishment for war crimes from WWII. He now has to guard his heart and mind from Russia's manipulation while learning to survive in his new home.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Okay new story people. This is a berlin wall/ cold war era tale about Gilbert after he goes to live with Russia. He is East Germany AKA the German Democratic Republic in this. This will eventually be RusPrus or Russia x Prussia.

Warnings and disclaimers are as follows:

Title: Sound The Bugle

Chapter: One

Warnings for the chapter: Abuse, Language, and mentions of genocide and WW2. Plus it is only semi-Beta'd. Sorry.

Disclaimer: I do not own. I wish I did.

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The Iron Cross. The last link to my past, my people, my nation, and…my brother. Three years in this hell hole and I had yet to break. That bastard Russia had even put up a blockade to keep me and West apart but that still didn't seem to satisfy him. He had to take the one last thing I had in this world, my last connection to the life I once led. I watched as one massive paw took a hold of my cross and tugged, easily snapping the thin chain and my will. The last tie to everything that was familiar to me, that I had been or known disappeared into that monsters pocket as he dared smile innocently at me and I hung my head in defeat. I felt myself start to give up. To realize I was fighting a loosing war. To officially sound the bugle.

I gave a half-assed effort to struggle against the chains binding me to the wall, screaming profanities at him. The psycho just kept smiling at me, violet eyes shining with sadistic amusement.

"The little one does not need this anymore, da?" he asked in that damned childlike voice Id grown to hate. "Because your not Пруссия anymore are you? You're not Prussia. You're_ my _German Democratic Republic. _My _GDR now."

"Fuck you! I'm Preussen! Prussia!" I snarled, ever defiant despite having nothing to live for any longer. I barely had time to register his hand raising before he slapped me. I tasted the sharp metallic tang of blood on my tongue and felt it trickle from the corner of my mouth as I grinned triumphantly up at him. He had lost his temper, I had won this round. But the retribution for this small victory would cost me. I just wasn't sure what else could lose.

"Your not feeling well, little GDR, so I'll come back when you feel better, da?" he said walking back up the stairs with my cross and leaving me to shiver in the icy air of the basement. I made sure he was completely out of sight before I showed any weakness by shivering from the arctic temperature of the room and letting the tears slip silently down my face. I thought back to the last tie I had seen mien bruder. The last day of that hopeless war I didn't even want to be a part of. The day those three self righteous bastards and one traitorous son of a bitch decided to let Russland have me. The very day my life became a living hell.

(Flash back time, sorry people but its necessary)

Sun shined down in an empty clearing, oddly cheerful for such a dark day, as four men stood in a small semi circle in front of their two prisoners. The prisoners in question were kneeling, hands bound behind their backs. The two huddled close to each other for support and comfort. The burlier of the two hostages appeared to be a few years younger than his companion. His ocean blue eyes glinted with fear and apprehension, for himself and for his companion but no other emotion was exposed in his stoic face. The light blonde's hair was streaked with dried blood and was mussed from battle and out of its normally slicked back style giving indication to the hardships he had been through lately. His associate was painted in even more blood, snowy hair encrusted with it and pale, nearly colorless skin streaked dark mauve with the life liquor of those he called enemies. His crimson eyes flashed dangerously with suppressed anger and defiance and his entire body was taunt like a bow, prepared for a fight. Fear was completely absent from his gaze and expression as he starred down his captors.

After a few moments of the tense, pregnant silence the apparent leader of the men standing stepped forward to address his prisoners. His face was unusually grave as he began to announce their fates.

"Gilbert and Ludwig Beilschmidt, you are here by charged with war crimes of the highest degree. Among those included is the torture and genocide of an entire race and various other peoples." His clear voice rang through out the field with a sense of definiteness that left no room for argument. "Your punishment has been unanimously decided by we, The Allied Powers. Germany shall be split into two halves, East and West. Ludwig, you shall come with Arthur, Francis and me, and West Germany shall be divided into three separate sectors with each one being controlled by America, Britain and France. Gilbert, as East Germany, you shall with Ivan to be put under Russian supervision. East Prussia has, as of this moment, been officially dissolved. It is now to be known as either East Germany or the German Democratic Republic. In addition Berlin is to be divided into four sectors, one for each ally. This punishment is ultimate and no altercations can be made to it." Once he was finished delivering the sentence he stepped back into their make-shift ranks. He watched as the information sunk in, his eyes thoughtful as he starred at them. He was thinking back to some of his own actions of late and their consequences, comparing them to the actions of the two men in front of him. Were they really so different? Was his bombing of Nagasaki and Hiroshima justified because it was done in the name of peace or was he just as bad as the two brothers he was now condemning? The paler of the two prisoners, Gilbert immediately started shouting protests, refusing to just accept the consequences of the war he had fought in.

"Nein! You can't do that! You can't separate me and West!" he hollered fighting to get to his feet. His brother, the stockier blond kneeling next to him just hung his head and accepted the hand he had been dealt. He realized that they were the losers and as such they had to agree to what ever the victors decided upon. Unfortunately, Gilbert had never been very good at lying down and agreeing to defeat.

"Bruder stop. There's nothing we can do." Ludwig said quietly, heavy German accent making it hard to understand him. Which his brother used to his advantage and pretended he never heard anything, continuing to shout.

"Fuck no! I'm not leaving my brother to go live with that nut case! You can't dissolve my country! Preu en is too awesome to be dissolved! Who the hell do you think you are, passing righteous judgment on us you hypocritical bastards? I've done nothing worse then any of you have done before in previous wars! War is ugly and shit happens!" He screamed. The man known as Arthur, the embodiment of Britain, stepped forth this time to put him in his place. The Brit had been waiting for a moment like this, a moment in which he could get a small amount of retaliation for the destruction of his heart, his capitol, at the hands of the Prussian pilot and his fleet of Luftwaffe bombers. He wanted to crush the albino's spirit like his had almost been, rub in the fact that the egotistical warrior had _lost._

"Victors right." He sneered tauntingly, relishing in the heady feeling of triumph and supremacy he felt at the utterance of those words, "you are bound as a fallen nation and defeated solider to our will. You specifically, Gilbert, should be grateful for your luck and more humble. The original plan was to dissolve your country and execute you but Russia has, for some reason unfathomable to me, taken a liking to your obnoxious arrogant arse. Therefore you shall not complain or fight your sentence or the execution will happen." His mocking tone had Gilbert wishing his hands were free so he could rip out that haughty throat that dared talk down to him.

The proposal that his dearest older brother might have been execute for a war he didn't even want to fight in had Ludwig reacting this time. "No! Please don't execute him. He's mien bruder, my only family I've ever known." He said looking up at the faces in front of him in a search for sympathy. Only one face showed him the compassion he desired. France looked down at him in understanding, remembering the time of Napoleon and how hard Gilbert had fought against him to get Ludwig back.

"Mon chere, Gilbert won't be executed if he does not fight the punishment." The wavy haired Frenchman said comfortingly, looking over at the man he once called a friend and begging him with his eyes to just accept defeat this once. Gilbert met those familiar eyes in a rage.

"You want to execute me? Go ahead I dare you too." The albino snarled, challenging them to try and see what happens. He wasn't dead and he would fight until the ending breath left his body. Russia smiled and walked over to the conquered nation, childish joy radiating off of him.

"Nyet, your mine now, little bird. They won't kill you unless I decide that you are destined to die. At the present we must be getting home, da? It is late after all and we both have had a hard day." The Russian grabbed a hold of Gilbert's arm to lead him away, but Gilbert resisted.

"Wait. Let me say good-bye to him." Ludwig cried struggling to his feet. He managed it with the help of Francis, who then proceeded to help him reach his brother for one final goodbye.

"Ludwig I'll be fine. We'll see each other soon enough. These assholes can't keep us apart for long." Gilbert promised, putting on a brave façade for his brother.

"I'll get you free. Just please don't do anything stupid. Do what Russland asks okay Gilbert? Please don't get yourself hurt because you are too stubborn and defiant for your own good. "He begged his reckless older brother, truly terrified for the other's fate. Gilbert just gave him a smile that did nothing to quash his fears and leaned closer to him, giving him what could pass as a hug for the moment.

"Ich liebe dich, Bruder. See you soon," Gilbert whispered into his ear before Ivan jerked him away from the blond German and into his chest, arms wrapped around him possessively.

"I said we are going, da? You've had time to say farewell so we leave now. Home is a long ways away." The Slavic man growled pulling the shorter Prussian along. Gilbert looked back at his brother, watching him disappear into the horizon the further away they got. He could tell Ludwig was being held back by Britain and America with France standing off to the side to watch the one occasion where the proud third member of The Bad Touch Trio walk into his new life.

"Goodbye, brother." The beaten warrior whispered one last time, the words snatched from between his lips by a sudden harsh wind that sent chills through his already weakening body.

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A/N: Authoress would like to just add I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of a story I promise to finish. I would love it if you would R&R but I refuse to hold my baby hostage till I get a certain number of R&Rs so dont worry about that. If you would like the story to maybe go a certain way or see something specific in it dont be afraid to ask. I'll do my best to please you people because your the ones that matter. And reveiwers get responses from me. Goodbye until next time loves.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Okay guys I know its later but here is the next installment of Sound The Bugle. Enjoy reading.

Warnings and disclaimers are as follows:

Title: Sound The Bugle

Chapter: Two

Warnings for the chapter: Abuse, Language.

Disclaimer: I do not own.

Translations:

Pitchka- Little bird or birdie

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Russia returned a few hours later to the basement-turned-dungeon, as I heard his heavy footsteps clomp down the stairs, I raised my head weakly. In the time he was gone I had managed to take a short, light nap but the sleep had done nothing to help my out look on life. If anything it, only darkened it. The chains binding my hands above my head had rubbed my wrists raw and my shoulders had cramped up painfully. My fingers were completely numb and devoid of all blood flow, I'm sure. In short I felt like scheisse and didn't want to deal with that damned Russian psycho at the moment.

He approached me slowly, pausing a few feet from my position and stared at me. Just stared, as if he was sizing me up for a fight. I met his gaze with a defiant glare in the weak hope he would leave and not bother me if he thought I would put up a fight. The hope was crushed when the stench of vodka rolled off of him in waves, alerting me to the fact he was piss drunk. A drunk Ivan meant I was in for more pain and suffering then I wanted or could handle.

Then that fucking lead pipe the bastard was so found of was pulled out of his coat and I flinched in response. My eyes quickly fell to the floor to try and avoid upsetting him further, I waited for the first hit. The strike I was expecting never came, instead he placed the pipe gently under my chin and tipped my head up so I was forced to meet his gaze. I jerked my head back out of reflex and snarled at him in a rebellious challenge. Ivan's glare turned even more frigid, if that was possible, and the pipe left my chin, only to come crashing down across my cheek. Pain burst across my face and mind in a searing flash and I had to muffle a cry of pain. I fought and failed to keep my face impassive and my voice silent as the blows continued to rain down on my body.

It felt like an eternity before he finally stopped but in reality it couldn't have been more the a few minutes. I was gasping and whimpering, fighting to breathe through the intense, overwhelming pain. Judging on how difficult the simple act of breathing was, I was guessing at least two if my ribs if not more were cracked or broken. Tears ran down my face as I panted in agony and terror and I was helpless to stop them.

"Has the little one learned his lesson yet?" he asked sweetly, only a small slur detectible under the heavy Russian accent. I tried to nod but that proved to be far too painful so I settled for a small submissive cry of pain and a look of defeat. He seemed to understand that I was done fighting for the time being and that he had broken me a little more. A wide child-like grin stretched across his visage as he unlocked the chains binding me. As soon as I was no longer being supported by an outside force my legs buckled and I collapsed, too weak to support my own weight. Russia must have predicted this would happened because as I started to fall he wrapped his arms around me, picking me up. "Good. Then my little GDR may be allowed to come upstairs. But you must behave." The last part was a warning that I had to watch my self.

Fingers gently brush hair out of my eyes as he carried up the stairs. The tender touches were so different then his previously painful ones and I felt my eyes slip shut as  
I let myself imagine that I was with my brother back home and that he was the one cooing softly. Somewhere along the journey to the bedchambers I passed out, lulled into the blackness of sleep by the kind tone singing a quiet lullaby. The darkness was a blessed relief from my current hell, my dreams returning me to happier times in my life where I took sanctuary for the next few hours.

When I awoke it was in a different room then the one I had stayed in the other times I was allowed upstairs. My normal room was smaller then this one and much less lavishly furnished, this room was decorated with the occupants comfort in mind. Heavy wool and fur blankets were piled high on the bed I was currently laying in, mostly likely in an attempt to combat the bone deep chill of the Siberian winter. Little trinkets and knick knacks were placed on various open shelves and on top of dressers around the room, some of them looking like they dated back centuries. My best guess was that this was the psychos way of trying to personalize the room but it failed. Only a few of the mementos appeared to hear any sentimental value. The rest seemed to be there just to take up space. In my quick glance around the room a full length mirror caught my eye. My reflection was obscured but from what little I could see, I looked like hell. Standing up slowly, mindful of the ribs that still sent sparks of pain with every small movement, I made my way over to the mirror carefully. I stripped my clothes off in order to get the full effect of my appearance.

A small gasp of shock escaped my lips as I saw the person reflected back at me from the glass. The familiar blood-colored eyes and snowy skin and hair were still there but that's all I could recognize. I had lost weight, too much to be healthy, leaving me looking like a walking skeleton or damn near to it. I was normally pale but the value of my skin was a sickly color that left me looking cadaverous. In short I looked like death warmed over. Bruises and cuts marred most of my flesh, the winner being the nasty black and blue mark spreading across my face from the pipe last night. At least Russia had been kind enough to wrap my ribs so the healed correctly and to clean the blood off me... I shuddered at the thought of my captor touching me while I was unconscious and helpless.

The sound of a door opening pulled me from my silent evaluation and I turned in time to see the sick bastard himself enter the room. A smile was plastered on his face making me want to beat it off of him but the fear from last night kept me in my place and meekly meeting his gaze. The stench of vodka was no longer detectable, meaning he was sober but that did little to comfort my rising fear. He could be just a cruel sober as he could be drunk.

"Little one! Your awake!" he exclaimed happily, clapping in childish joy.

"I was worried about my little Gilbert. You shouldn't get yourself hurt like that that. Next time it could be deadly!"

Bile rose in my throat and I felt sick to my stomach at the suggestion that I had done this to myself.

My anger exploded in a shout of "I got myself hurt? You fucking psychopath! You did this to me! You're the one who hurt me!"

As I forgot myself for a moment. I was quickly reminded of my place though when a hand clamped over my throat, cutting off my air supply. I was roughly pinned to the wall, the jolt from the impact forcing a pained cry from my lips. My mind shut down as my windpipe was crushed.

"You aren't behaving East Germany. Do I need to punish you again?" he asked calmly, the hand around my jugular only getting tighter. I clawed at the fingers in desperation and blind terror, shaking my head as best I could. Just as my vision began to tunnel the pressure was removed, allowing free air flow again. I slumped against the wall, sliding down it to sit on the floor as I tried to catch me breath.

Patting my head like one would to comfort or reward a dog, Russia smirked gleefully. "that's better ptichka. Now I came to see if you are hungry and to tell you I have to go to the Kremlin. I will be back tonight. There is food already prepared for you in the kitchen. don't do anything stupid, Gilbert." The warning not to do anything stupid held an underlying threat. I watched him leave, rubbing my neck tenderly. As the car drove away there was only one thought in my mind.

I had to escape.

Escape _before _he killed me or my will to fight and live.

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A/N: Once again Im sorry for the lateness. I had a con two weekends ago and then I got sick. Ill try to be more timley with the chapters. As always Reveiws are loved. Untill next time my darlings, Good bye


	3. Chapter 3

For the year or so things went relatively smoothly. I mostly kept my head down and played the part of Russia's submissive pet while I healed and planned my escape. Ivan's disposition towards me had changed in small ways for the better. The beatings for minute infractions had become less regular and I was rarely put in the basement anymore. I even had been allowed to permanently move into a small bedroom adjacent to Ivan's as a reward for good behavior. My cross was still in that bastard's possession and I was being forced to wear the hammer and sickle Russia and his bosses were so fond of. The Luftwaffe uniform I had worn since the beginning of the war had been confiscated and the new East German one made to replace it.

It was mid-december before I had my first opening in which to flee the frozen hell that had become my home. The plans had been finalized for months but the opportunity to execute it had never arisen before then. My lucky break had come when Ivan's boss had summoned him to the Kremlin for an emergency and I was allowed to stay home. It was the first time since I had healed that I was allowed on my own for more then a few hours. He was going to be gone for a few days and I wanted to be at West's before he got back which meant I had to leave immediately. For some reason the thought of breaking Russia's trust made me feel guilty, just one more reason I had to leave quickly. Before I didn't want to any longer.

Within minutes of his departure I was up and running around the empty house gathering whatever supplies I needed on the trip to Germany's house. Anything I deemed necessary for survival in the harsh Russian winter found its way in the duffel I had acquired in the early stages of planning. Matches, food, water, blankets, and the like were haphazardly stuffed into the bag as I hurried to get out of this prison. My cross remained elusive despite the fact I had torn through the entire house searching for it. The bastard must have taken it with him.

Thirty minutes later found me taking one last look at the house that had been my jail for the last few years as I headed down the drive. I had checked a map before leaving and designed the quickest route to my brother's place. There was a forest a few miles from Ivan are that I could cut through to get to my destination faster. The distance looked shorter on the map and it took me longer then I expected by hours. Numerous hours passed before I reached the edge of the woods exhausted. I was out of shape and running the ten miles to the forest had drained me. Making my way into the dense trees I stumbled across a small brook. Night was falling and I figured this was as good a place as any to bunk down for the night. It was far enough from the house that it was safe and exhaustion made my limbs little more then dead weight and my eyelids heavy. There was a little niche made by the tree roots, just big enough for me to curl up in. I pulled the blankets from my pack and wrapped it around me as I coiled into a ball and nestled between the roots. I was out as soon as my eyes closed, to tired to fight sleep any longer.

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I was startled awake when a hand clamped down over my mouth, harshly. Ivan's face loomed in my vision and he looked beyond pissed. I tried to push the hand off my mouth, fear coursing through my veins. The pure terror coiled in my belly made me sick to my stomach.

"Do you know what happens to little birds that flee home? They get lost and hurt. Do you know the best way to stop them from leaving? You make sure they can't fly away. Maybe its time I clip your wings permanently, da?" the sickly sweet tone sent shivered of fear down my spine as it whispered in my ear. The threat was not lost on me and I tried to beg him not to do anything but I couldn't speak so it was left to my eyes to do the talking. He either didn't notice or simply ignored it as he grabbed my arm and twisted it till he heard a sickening snap. My scream of pain was muffled by his hand but he still heard it and his face warped into a grin of sadistic glee. The pipe that was the object of so many of my nightmares was removed from his coat and I expected to be beat like always but to a new level of pain. Oh boy was I ever wrong. He had something much, much worse in mind as I learned when he ripped the clothes off my lower half. It was then that it dawned on me what he was about to do and I renewed my struggles, trying to beg him not to. Whimpers fell from my lips as he pressed his hand more forcefully against my mouth to still me. His gleeful smirk was the last thing I remember before pain took over my mind and I blacked out.

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Im so sorry it took months to get this out. Stuff has been happening and i might have to go in for surgery so ive been preoccupied. but updates will come more often now that its summer. Please dont hate me!


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